


carving in

by KillMeNow



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Consensual Non-Consent, Dave Strider Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, POV Karkat Vantas, Panic Attacks, Trans Male Dave Strider, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, really unhealthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillMeNow/pseuds/KillMeNow
Summary: dave had begged you to do it to him. you spent days beforehand talking over rules and limits and how he could signal to stop if he needed to.you regret it almost instantly.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	carving in

**Author's Note:**

> this is pretty much just a vent fic chock full of gore and blood, so if thats not your thing i wouldnt recommend reading

You should have known it would be a really fucking bad idea the second Dave asked about it. It had been a late night, and the two of you were laying on his bed and talking in that soft hushed tone you reserved just for him, just for moments like that. He had a terrible dream about his lusus and woke up shivering and sobbing like a wriggler. You talked for hours about his guardian and all the horrible things he did to Dave. It made you nauseous. You held him in your arms and he confessed to you how badly he wanted to hurt again, and how much he craved the idea of being in  _ control  _ of his pain. 

That was the first time he brought it up. And really, you regret not understanding how unhealthy it would be for both of you. The next time he had one of those dreams, he begged you to do it to him. You spent days afterwards making plans and talking about what would be okay. Really, at the time, it had seemed totally fine! You didn’t see the problem at all. The two of you had done plenty of rougher things when pailing, and this didn’t seem that different.

It was, though. It was really fucking different. Because in retrospect, you realize now that when you pailed like that he enjoyed it, found pleasure in it. This had been different. It was purely him wanting to suffer and be punished for some bullshit self constructed guilt. 

When you had finally started the scene a week later, you were nervous. He had on a baggy shirt, the one he wore whenever he felt uncomfortable in his body. That should have been the first giveaway, really, but you were too selfishly absorbed in your own stress about the situation to notice the signs. 

You had grabbed him and tossed him to the ground. You were much weaker than him, but he was limp, letting you do whatever you wanted. He usually looked so strong and so brave, but he had just looked _scared_ and weak _. Like a wiggler_ , your brain unhelpfully supplies, only worsening your guilt. The vision of him underneath you, eyes wide in terror and body trembling was not one you were ever going to forget.

You had started off relatively calm. The first half, at least, you essentially had a script for. You took off his clothes roughly and groped at his body the way he had told you to. That part was okay, it wasn’t too abnormal. But then he started  _ struggling _ , and even though you knew he wanted you to keep going, the fake whimpering and squirming was just… A lot to handle.

There were no instructions after that. When planning it out, he had told you, “Just kinda freestyle it. Do whatever you want, as long as it ends up with your claws in my bod.” 

You had scraped your claws along his cheek, drawing a fine line of blood. You hadn’t been able to help the small hitch in your chest when you saw the fresh wound you had just caused- It felt  _ bad _ to be doing this. But Dave had begged for it, he had wanted it so badly. You were gonna push yourself as hard as you could. When you raked your claws down his chest and all over his stomach, forming a collection of new wounds criss crossing over his old scars it was too much. You looked down at your hands and saw bright red blood caked under your claws and staining your hands. You had expected him to look at least a little like he was enjoying it- When it came to intimacy, he had a terrible poker face. You could almost always read him instantly. 

But he didn’t look like he was enjoying it. He looked like he was just in pain and upset and suffering. He looked up at you with glassy, watery eyes and he was shaking so hard that it really didn’t seem like an act anymore. But he wasn’t telling you to stop, still. 

“Dave?” You had whispered, voice minorly frantic. “Are you okay?” He didn’t respond. Just stared blankly. 

And then the blood started pooling around him and you felt like you were gonna be sick. You were sitting on his lap, straddling him, and killing your boyfriend. You felt such incredible guilt and terror flash through you and a scream tore itself from your lips the second his head started lolling to the side limply, like he was  _ dead _ . Clearly, the scream you made had been loud enough that the others had heard it. It was more than a minute later, but to you, it felt like seconds afterwards that Rose burst through the door. 

The look on her face was equally terrifying. She stared at Dave’s body and looked so fucking frightened. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she wrenched her eyes up to you, still on top of him. You were covered in his blood. It was on your hands and your face and- It was just everywhere.

Her face turned from one of terror to fury.  _ “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?”  _ She had screamed at you, sounding frantic. She grabbed you and threw you off of him with far more strength than you expected and you landed on your ass a couple of feet away. 

“H-He wanted me to-” You knew it was a stupid answer the second it was out of your mouth. She smacked you across the face and grabbed your hair.

“I should kill you for this. I should, really-” She started rambling, sounding so unlike herself it was terrifying. You were shaking and crying, unable to take your eyes off of Dave, still breathing so shallowly. She got off of you. “Get out,” You looked at her, still for a moment. “GET OUT!” You listened that time. You got up and scurried out as fast as you could. You went back to your respite block and felt sick again. You still smelled like his blood, like sharp iron.  _ Red _ . Red everywhere.

You lurched over your trashcan and threw up, every bit of food and bile leaving your stomach violently. You panted and sat on the couch shaking like a leaf. 

“Oh god.” You couldn’t stop picturing how he had looked with his eyes blank and body bloody. You held your head in your hands and sobbed. Why had you agreed to this? Why did you think it would be fine to indulge his borderline fetishistic desire to suffer? Rose was going to kill you. Everyone else was going to hate you. And Dave, oh god, Dave. Would he ever be able to look at you the same after knowing what you had done to him? 

You laid down, pulling the blanket you had from Dave’s room over you, and forced yourself to shut your eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @cousin-mu


End file.
